House of Cards
by Smitty
Summary: Just when Obi-Wan thinks he has life figured out, a shadowy bounty hunter proves him wrong.


_Disclaimer: I do not own anyone in this story except for Ronyne, Spath,_   
_Trank, Pern, assorted bounty hunters, and of course, our ever-delusional_   
_barmaids. I borrowed the rest from Lucas, screwed with their lives, and_   
_will send them back in time for Ep II._

_Author's note: This story uses the Malastare series concept and characters,_   
_but is darker than the average Malastare story. Anyone familiar with "The_   
_House That Obi-Wan Built" will have enough information to understand_   
_the setting, though the story is more of a stand-alone._

_House of Cards_   
_by Smitty_   


"Hush, now, Ani, it's time for bed."   
"Please, Mom? Just one more?"   
"All right, Ani...just one more. This one is an old Corellian   
legend."   
"Corellians look like humans, right?"   
"That's right...This story is about a great Corellian warrior. Her   
name was Ronyne, and she served her master well, and bravely. One day,   
her Master made a bad deal. He would have lost quite a bit of money to   
another family, so he ordered Ronyne to go kill the head of the rival   
family. Ronyne was a good warrior, but more than that, she was a good   
person, and knew that it would be wrong to commit murder because her   
Master did not want to pay a debt he had incurred. She refused to carry   
out her Master's bidding, and he became very angry. He ordered her   
killed. The assassins came to her room late at night and attacked her as   
she slept. They wounded her, and though she awoke and managed to kill   
the evil assassins, she could not save herself. The Corellian gods were   
watching and knew that she was strong in spirit and soul. They allowed   
her spirit to wander the galaxy, looking for a new family to protect. Now,   
she does her job from the shadows, never to be seen..."   
  


Obi-Wan Kenobi gave the gruel a half-hearted stir as he waited on   
Anakin. The boy woke before the sun and took off for parts unknown   
every morning until breakfast. It was a daily struggle to retrieve him for   
meals and training. Letting the spoon fall against the pot with a muted   
clatter, he strode to the door, his irritation showing in the lengthening of   
his strides. He yanked the door open with slightly more force than   
necessary.   
"Anakin!" he yelled, stepping outside. He felt the boy's presence.   
Satisfied that his message had been adequately conveyed, he turned to go   
back inside when something caught his eye. Something dark and cold   
invaded the blood running through his veins as he stared at the wickedly   
serrated dagger pinning a scrap of paper to the door. He reached out with   
the Force, pulling the dagger out of the door and to his side. He unfolded   
the paper cautiously.   
"Cantina. 8pm. Alone."   
It was signed with a smear of blood.   
  


Anakin Skywalker could tell that his mentor, Obi-Wan Kenobi, was   
preoccupied. For one thing, he was actually eating the gruel. Anakin   
wrinkled his nose. Nasty stuff. And even nastier today, since it had stuck   
to the bottom of the pot and burnt. The black, charred layer at the bottom   
infused the rest of the meal with a bitter, smoky taste. Obi-Wan didn't   
seem to notice. Anakin could almost see the gears working in his master's   
head as Obi-Wan shoveled gruel into his mouth. He sighed. This could   
mean one of two things. One: Obi-Wan was developing some new   
training plan that would involve a lot of meditation and probably some   
ridiculous-looking gymnastics that would result in more than a few bruises.   
Two: Obi-Wan had his mind on something else entirely, and Anakin was   
going to be spending a lot of time in meditation while Obi-Wan ran around   
doing whatever it was he felt needed to be done. After careful   
consideration, Anakin decided the second scenario was more plausible.   
When Obi-Wan was obsessed with new training plans, he got this gleeful   
look that filled Anakin with dread.   
"Um, 'scuse me, Master," he muttered, sliding from the chair. "Got   
chores to do." He made a beeline for the exit, only to be stopped by his   
master's magically restored attention.   
"Anakin."   
"Yeah?"   
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him.   
"Yes, Master?"   
"I have some errands to do. I want you to work on that patience   
exercise I taught you yesterday."   
"All morning?"   
"No, Anakin. Your line is, 'Yes, Master. Your every wish is my   
command. I live only to serve you.' Now, go meditate."   
  


Obi-Wan carefully transferred a scraping of the blood from the note   
onto a slide and pushed it into the computer. He studied the writing again,   
as the computer performed its analysis. The strokes were strong, harshly   
presented against the white paper. The letters were neat and legible; the   
perfect formation of each letter like that of a talented schoolchild. Like   
that of a person hiding their true handwriting. The computer beeped and   
Obi-Wan shifted his attention to the readout. An elevated amount of midi-   
chlorians made him raise his eyebrow, until he arrived at the DNA analysis.   
Wonderful. The note had been written by a Force-sensitive bantha. He   
shut off the computer with a swipe of his hand and went to get his cloak.   
  


"I'm going to town--"   
"Can I come?" The look of hope on Anakin's face almost made   
Obi-Wan cave. He forced his heart to harden. After all, Anakin had to   
learn discipline.   
"You may not. Continue with your patience exercises and when   
you truly feel you have achieved something, meditate on that."   
"Yes, Master. Your every wish is my command. I live only to   
serve you," Anakin mimicked with a bit too much sneer for Obi-Wan's   
taste.   
"Do not test me, Anakin. You're not going to win." Obi-Wan   
paused, wondering if he had been too harsh. "But at least you are   
learning," he offered, with a grin.   
The look he received from Anakin was less than rewarding.   
  


"What has become of the boy?"   
"To which boy are you referring?" Mace Windu's presence   
commanded the small room in which he stood with Supreme Chancellor   
Palpatine.   
"The child who helped save Naboo. The one who is to be trained   
as a Jedi." Palpatine knew he was hitting a sore spot with Windu, and   
decided to twist the knife. "He seemed like such a charming little chap,   
though he seemed a bit old to start on your way of life."   
Mace Windu's face did not change in any way.   
"He is being trained by Jedi Knight Kenobi."   
"Ah! Yes, Obi-Wan Kenobi. The one who killed the Queen's   
mysterious attacker." My apprentice, he thought darkly. Who will be   
avenged.   
"He was a Sith."   
"Ah, yes. Of course. Well, I was looking forward to having two   
such heroic personalities pursuing the Jedi's duties to the Senate, but I have   
not seen either since that little debacle on Gaclena." He had known he was   
treading on dangerous territory. He was unsure of whether the true story   
had come been fully divulged to the council, but the episode had filled him   
with great hope. The boy had been overcome with fear and anger. He was   
ripe for the influence of the Dark Side. And so powerful. So powerful.   
"Padawan Skywalker is being trained by Jedi Knight Kenobi."   
"I'm so glad to hear that. I was worried about the lad during that   
mission. He seemed so lost and scared..." Palpatine trailed off, calculating   
on the Jedi Master's keen logic to fill in the blanks. "I just wanted to make   
sure he was doing all right. Write him a bit of a note, perhaps."   
Mace Windu eyed the Supreme Chancellor. Why all these   
questions concerning Kenobi's Padawan? Windu did not like this. Nor did   
he like Palpatine himself, and neither did Master Yoda, he knew.   
"You may send it to the Council. We will make sure he gets it."   
"Oh? Through the Council? Isn't that rather unusual? Are his   
whereabouts being kept a secret?"   
You slimy garduin, Mace Windu thought. What are you getting at?   
"Padawan training is very serious," he said, aloud. "It is essential that   
Skywalker's training is not interrupted in any way. He has a lot of catching   
up to do."   
"Oh, I understand, completely," Palpatine assured him. "An   
excellent policy, I'm sure."   
Inside, he was fuming.   
  


Obi-Wan stepped into the Ale Barrel, the town tavern where he   
sometimes took Anakin to eat, and let his eyes adjust to the low lighting.   
The Ale Barrel was more of a town gathering place than a watering hole   
for the local scum. That one was down the street, and he did not take   
Anakin there. Technically, Anakin should not have been frequenting the   
Ale Barrel either, but Obi-Wan had managed to convince Samke, the   
bartender, that "Anakin was old enough." Anakin loved the tavern. He got   
to run around and listen to the stories the old spacers had to tell. He was a   
great favorite around the men, who seemed to think Anakin's stories of   
heroism and Podracing were all exaggeration by the boy's overactive   
imagination. Obi-Wan did all he could to encourage that view.   
Now, as he let the sunlight filter in behind him, the usually friendly   
and ebullient spacers growled and entreated him to close the door. He   
ignored their pleas to make his point, then allowed the door to swing shut   
behind him. A brief scan of the room presented him with his target. He   
headed straight for the corner booth and the lone spacer shoving a mound   
of yert eggs around his plate.   
Spath Kadnau was not yet fifty, but had spent more than 30 years in   
space, first as a Republic pilot, then as a commercial transport and cargo   
pilot, and on occasion, as Obi-Wan had often suspected, a smuggler. The   
stress of constant space travel, coupled with a diet of tavern food and ale   
had aged the spacer considerably past his prime. He had thinning hair and   
was beginning to gather an extra layer of padding at the waist. He was the   
survivor of countless brawls, double-crosses, equipment malfunctions, and   
tavern yert eggs. He was a hard man, and right now, he was a hard man   
with a hangover.   
"You're Spath Kadnau?"   
"Unh." Spath blinked painfully up at the tall, young man staring   
down at him. He seemed familiar, but Spath was struggling to place him.   
He blinked again, and suddenly the lights came on. "Aw, yeah, you're   
Anakin's old man." Spath nodded, proud of himself, and then racked his   
brain. He knew there was a question he had always wanted to ask the man,   
and now he couldn't scrape it up from the depths of his alcohol-sloshed   
brain.   
"He admires you very much. May I sit down?"   
"Sure. Be comfy. Not like I own the booth." Spath grinned   
widely at Obi-Wan, doing his best to be friendly. He liked that Anakin kid.   
"Anakin tells me you are the most comprehensive source of legends   
in the galaxy."   
Spath blinked at him and pushed his eggs aside. He leaned back in   
the booth, hangover replaced by the sharp curiosity that made him so good   
at his job. "If you mean I know every story there is to tell, then yeah, I got   
the goods." He studied Obi-Wan's odd clothing and youthful face. No   
way was this guy Anakin's father. He was very nearly a kid himself.   
"I was served with a request for a meeting," the kid said, laying a   
piece of paper on the table between them. "It was accompanied by this."   
Next to the paper, he lay a small, shining knife with a twisted, serrated   
blade.   
Spath's face froze, his eyes locked on the evidence.   
"You recognize it?"   
"Kid, someone's playing a joke on you."   
"I don't think so." Obi-Wan opened the note and showed him the   
smear of blood. "I heard a rumor once, of a bounty hunter who signed   
notes like this, but I didn't pay attention at the time, and never listened to   
the whole story."   
"That's all it is, kid, a rumor. Don't you go listening to that sort of   
thing."   
"I'm listening to nothing," Obi-Wan said, practically. "But I am still   
in possession of a cryptic note and a rather ugly piece of weaponry. I think   
that's all the evidence necessary to want a few answers." Obi-Wan was   
fully prepared to use his Jedi powers to coerce an answer from the man,   
but never needed them.   
"Your rumor, kid, was about a bounty hunter named Ronyne."   
"Ronyne?" Obi-Wan recognized the name. "After the mythical   
Corellian warrior who was killed by her master? Her ghost was   
condemned to roam the galaxy, looking for acceptance into another clan."   
"That's the idea. Either way," Spath continued, sinking into his role   
as a storyteller, "this particular psycho chick is a bounty hunter and   
assassin. She dresses all in black and melts into the shadows. Word has it   
that she got burnt up in a ship disaster way back whenever, and she's all   
scarred and disfigured. She keeps her face covered. Don't cross this dame.   
Bad news. She's real big on knives, the nastier the better. That little toy   
she left you is just a party favor. I heard 'bout guys who double-crossed   
her and ended up in very little pieces in orbit 'round Alderaan. She's a   
myth, kid. Every spacer and outlaw has heard of her. She's a nightmare."   
Suddenly, Spath sat up straighter, and became the hardened, cynical spacer   
once more. "A bad dream. Nothing more. I'm tellin' ya, someone's just   
trying to scare you."   
"How did such a myth get so detailed, not to mention widely   
believed, if it had no basis in reality?"   
"Aw, it had a basis, all right. Some chick got it in her head she was   
gonna be a bounty hunter and dress up in black robes or something.   
Spread some rumors, everyone's afraid of her, she don't got nothing to   
worry 'bout. I think that was 'round ten years ago. Girl's dead, now.   
Heard she went down in a sabotage mission. Got captured, didn't get out   
in time."   
"So, she was real."   
"Naw. The person was real. Rest of it's bantha poodoo. It's like   
your little buddy's stories. Believe me, kid, I've seen it all, and there ain't   
no way your kid did half the stuff he claims he did."   
Obi-Wan knew otherwise, and made a mental note to remin Anakin   
to watch his trap around the spacers.   
"Well, thank you very much for your help, Mr. Kadnau. I   
appreciate it."   
"Naw. It was nuthin'." In a flash, Spath remembered the question   
he had wanted to ask. "Hey, how'd you get Sparky up there to let the kid   
in here?"   
Obi-Wan turned to look at Spath. "He's old enough," he said, with   
a seemingly careless wave of his hand.   
"Aw." Spath turned back to his eggs. "'Course he's old enough.   
What a dumb question."   
  


Obi-Wan returned to the small cottage, brandishing a container of   
kaadu kebobs and oirn noodles to make up for Anakin's morning of   
patience. He was not happy to realize that Anakin was not to be found.   
So, he waited. In fact, he waited well into the evening, until Anakin trotted   
in the front door, as grubby as he had ever seen him.   
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan surveyed his charge's greasy attire, mussed   
hair and grimy fingers. "Where have you been and what have you been   
doing to get yourself in this state?"   
"Don't be mad--" Anakin started.   
"It's a bit late for that," Obi-Wan informed him. "Have you no   
respect for my authority? Do you believe you can simply train yourself   
when you feel like it?"   
"Aw, Obi-Wan..."   
"Do you?"   
"No, I was just bored..."   
"Anakin."   
"Aw, you weren't around, anyway! If I can't train myself, why do   
you keep leaving me alone?"   
"You are a ten-year-old boy. I should hope that you are mature   
enough to finish what needs to be done before...what did you do, anyway?"   
"Well...I sorta went down to the Podrace stadium 'cause I wanted   
to check out the pods...there's a race the day after tomorrow, and I was   
talking to one of the racers, and she let me help her out a little..."   
"Anakin! Really. Podracing? What did I tell you about that?"   
"You said I couldn't race. But then you said we could go see a race   
sometimes."   
"But not at the expense of your training. Besides, there was no   
race today. You had no business being there."   
"Why? I don't understand. Why can't I race?"   
"It's not proper, Anakin. You are in training to become a Jedi   
Knight. You cannot participate in such an event--"   
"So? Why not?"   
"For one thing, it's dangerous. A Jedi never puts himself in danger   
for the mere thrill. Also, you have an unfair advantage. You can use the   
Force--"   
"I could use it before! I did use it before! I was the only human   
fast enough--"   
"But you could not control it. Now, you are trained in use of the   
Force, and it is inappropriate for anyone associated with the Jedi to   
participate in a contest in which they have an unfair advantage. Not to   
mention, Podracing is a haven for gamblers. To be involved in such a--"   
"Qui-Gon gambled for me. He bet the ship to Watto that I would   
win--"   
Obi-Wan felt a sharp pain in his chest at the mention of his old   
master's name, but he ruthlessly pushed it aside, reminding himself that   
even as a Padawan, he often disagreed with his master's methods, no matter   
how much he loved the man.   
"--and then he bet the pod against my freedom and Qui-Gon--"   
"Just because Qui-Gon did it does not make it right!"   
A deafening silence draped the room. Too late, Obi-Wan realized   
the angle Anakin had chosen to pursue.   
"Anakin, I did not mean that it was not right to--"   
"Shut up! Shut up, Obi-Wan!" The boy looked to be near tears,   
but he was too angry to notice.   
"Anakin, please listen to what I am trying to say."   
"No way! No! Just stay away."   
Anakin ran to his room, leaving Obi-Wan alone to stare after him.   
  


He was late. Sharp green eyes tracked Obi-Wan's passage through   
the cantina. He strode silently to the back, eyes catching every movement   
made in the dark hovel.   
The booth in the corner seemed safe enough to the young Jedi, so   
he settled himself on one side, resting a one booted foot on the seat next to   
him. He rested his elbow casually on his raised knee, dropping his hand   
comfortably close to his lightsaber. He sat alone, longer than he would   
have expected, and was starting to think he had missed the meeting when a   
figure detached from the shadows, slipping soundlessly into the seat across   
from him.   
"You're late." The voice had a gravelly tone that rivaled Yoda's.   
A careful evaluation of his companion warned Obi-Wan not to   
argue the semantics of whom had been kept waiting. A black cape, similar   
to his own, in style, engulfed a small body, hiding it from even the most   
prying of eyes. Black cloth swathed her face beneath the cloak's hood, her   
features hidden in a cowl, until she became a being black as the shadows, save   
only piercing green eyes, which were now studying him shrewdly.   
"I'm here," he said instead.   
She regarded him, silently.   
"I figure you'll tell me why I'm here when you're good and ready,"   
Obi-Wan responded, nonchalantly. He reached out with the Force, trying   
to determine her intentions, and was met with a void. It was as if there was   
no one sitting across from him.   
She stared at him, silently.   
"All right, then." Obi-Wan was still trying to determine why he   
could not sense her. She should have enough of an aura for several   
people, but he was getting nothing. He tried not to let that irritate him. He   
tried not to let her silence irritate him. He reflected that he should be much   
more patient after several months of dealing with Anakin, but he just   
seemed to becoming shorter of temper all the time.   
She held her black-gloved hand a few inches above the table top.   
"Charades? All right, then. Low."   
She shook her head.   
"Short?" Nod. She pointed to him. "Are you calling me short?"   
He knew perfectly well that was not her intention; he was trying to goad   
her into speaking. Her eyes narrowed as she shot him a withering look.   
"Very well. A short me. My kid?"   
"Your Padawan, Jedi."   
Obi-Wan's senses screamed danger at him. No one was to know   
that they were on Malastare or what they were doing. The Council knew   
of their location, and it would be pretty easy to guess that they were Jedi,   
training on a few months of downtime, but her manner told of a source   
more deadly than pure observation.   
"Anakin's in danger?"   
A nod.   
"Someone besides me wants to kill Anakin?"   
A shake.   
"They want him alive? Why?"   
"Hell if I know," she mumbled. "I just shoot people."   
"Why are you telling me, then? Are you not interested because you   
can't kill him?"   
"I like to let them know." Her voice was starting to sound like it   
was coming from further away. Her face had all but disappeared in her   
cloak.   
"So this is--" Obi-Wan blinked. She was gone. He was quite sure   
she had been sitting across from him just a moment ago. There was   
nowhere for her to go...was there? He jumped up and felt along the wall   
next to the booth. Nothing but shadows. He found a back door, along the   
other side of the wall, and pushed outside. She could not have gone   
through this door. She would have had to slip past him, for one thing, and   
for another, the door stuck horribly. He struggled outside, and surveyed   
the lot. A couple was leaning against a fence. Obi-Wan was turning away   
when he heard the man shout at him. He turned, just in time to deflect a   
blaster shot with his lightsaber. He returned it, just a hairsbreadth away   
from the man's hip, and walked back inside, turning off his lightsaber and   
stowing it, before anyone else saw the weapon. Where had she gone?   
  


Obi-Wan piloted the landspeeder back the little house on the town   
outskirts, his mind mulling the duel problems of Anakin's anger and   
Anakin's danger. Why, he reflected, did all his problems center around the   
boy? Surely life was never this complicated before him.   
It was, he finally decided, just in different ways. He no longer had   
someone looking over his shoulder, coaching him and grading him on   
everything he did. He no longer had to argue the council's mandates with   
Qui-Gon. No, he countered himself. I have to argue them with Anakin. It   
was beginning to dawn on him that Anakin was really just a very small,   
rather helpless version of his former master. No wonder being around the   
boy caused such an ache in his heart.   
He was feeling much more contrite on the matter of Anakin, deeply   
regretting his last statement, as well as his harsh attitude toward the boy's   
upbringing. There really was no reason he had to turn Podracing into an   
evil. He had thought that it would be best for the boy to forbid him from it,   
no matter the momentary pain. He now wondered if he was wrong. After   
all, he had chosen Malastare for its attractions, to include Podracing,   
because Anakin would miss it. There was no reason he could not build a   
Pod and fly around for a bit, even if the Code mandated that he could not   
participate in an actual race.   
He entered the house, and walked toward Anakin's room, hoping   
the boy had calmed enough for a rational discussion. He knocked on the   
door, and waited long enough to determine that he would get no answer.   
Was the boy still so upset, or had he simply cried himself to sleep? The   
hour was approaching 10, Obi-Wan mused, and opened the boy's door,   
careful to be quiet, lest he wake his charge. He need not have worried.   
The bed was empty.   
"Anakin?" Obi-Wan flicked on the light, scanning the rest of the   
room in search of his Padawan. The briefest thought that some mysterious,   
ruthless bounty hunter, with no twisted desire to warn him, had already   
kidnapped Anakin flashed through his conscious mind, making his search   
more vigorous. He tore through the training room, his own room, the   
living room, and finally the kitchen, desperate to find the boy. His aura   
was imprinted throughout the house, but nowhere with the strength to   
indicate his person. A piece of paper lay on the table, decorated with a   
hasty, childish scrawl. Obi-Wan snatched it up, recognizing Anakin's   
writing, read it, his heart breaking with the words. 

"I'm leaving. I know Qui-Gon made you take me and you don't   
want me, so don't worry about it. I'll be fine. Anakin."

Obi-Wan sat down at the table, the room dimly lit by the living   
room lamp. He leaned his head in his hand and regretted the entire day.   
  


"Well, I think his wife died of a long and tragic disease," Liana said,   
leaning her ample bosom on the bar. "And he had to take care of the kid   
and nurse her...and he's been in mourning since she died."   
"Nah. Not him. I think he's a bum who's hiding from something,   
and the kid is some sort of disguise. Maybe an orphan he picked up   
somewhere."   
Spath Kadnau was torn from his admiration of the barmaids   
speculating on possible histories for Anakin's handsome guardian by a tug   
on his coat. He looked down to find the charge of the conversation topic,   
himself.   
"Ani. Where's the old man?"   
"I dunno. He told me he didn't want me, then took off."   
"What?" Spath nudged Rocno off the chair next to him and picked   
Anakin up, planting him firmly in the middle of the spinning circle. Anakin   
made a full rotation before grabbing the edge of the bar. "He said what?"   
"Well..." Anakin screwed up his face. "I've had enough of Obi-   
Wan. It's time to go out on my own."   
"Ani, you're what? Eight? Nine?"   
"I'm ten. And I'm old enough."   
"Right, you're old enough. Look, your old man has a lot on his   
mind right now--"   
"But he told me I should have stayed a slave!"   
Before he knew it, all three of the barmaids had flocked to their end   
of the bar.   
"Come on, kid," Spath pulled Anakin off the stool, stepped over   
Rocno's happily drunk mass, and ushered him to a darker, quieter corner.   
The barmaids looked disappointed. "Now, tell me what's up."   
"I need to get to Naboo."   
"What's on Naboo?"   
Anakin thought fast. Spath would never believe he was friends   
with the Queen, so he would have to come up with something else.   
"My sister," he said, quickly. "She'll take care of me."   
Spath looked doubtful. "I don't know, kid," he said. "I think you   
should talk to whatsisface, first. Obi-What?"   
"Obi-Wan. And we already talked. I'm going to Naboo."   
"You talked? What? He just comes out with, ya shoulda stayed a   
slave, you say, ok, I'm goin' to Naboo, and he said, yeah, have fun?"   
Anakin shrugged and looked innocently at Spath. "Sure."   
  


Obi-Wan came awake with a start. He had dozed off, sitting there   
at the kitchen table. If Anakin has meant to run away, there was   
undoubtedly one place he knew to go: Barant. The ships and spacers   
would surely get him off planet. And besides the ships and spacers was at   
least one psychotic bounty hunter out for a profit. A profit that would be   
earned by delivering a certain wandering apprentice. Obi-Wan cursed his   
own stupidity as he raced for the landspeeder.   
  


Anakin strapped himself in carefully to the huge seat he was given   
beside Trank, the pilot who had volunteered to take him to Macenek, an   
interplanetary refueling station situated between Malastare and Naboo.   
Spath had called in a favor to get Anakin on the ship, and warned him that   
he would have to be careful when looking for someone to take him from   
the R&R station to Naboo. Not all spacers were as kind-hearted as   
himself, Spath knew. Anakin was less than concerned, though. He was   
finally going to see Padme again, and then he was going to start his trip   
around the galaxy. He was going to be the first to see every star system,   
just as he'd promised Qui-Gon.   
  


Spath took a long draw from his mug. His thoughts were with the   
kid, but his body was still at the bar, and demanding ale. He needed to   
catch up to the rest of his companions, who were considerably drunker   
than he. At least, that was his intention, before he was forcibly hauled   
away from his seat and pinned against the bar.   
"Where is he?"   
"Huh?" Spath squinted at the brown-robed figure shoving the edge   
of the bar into his back. Or something, his muddled mind told him. The   
figure lifted its other hand and pushed back the hood to reveal Obi-Wan   
Kenobi.   
"Anakin. He ran away from home."   
"Ran away? He told me--you're Obi-Wan, right?"   
"Obi-Wan Kenobi. What did he tell you?"   
"He said you got in a fight, and he was going to Naboo to live with   
his sister for a while. I couldn't take him, but--"   
"He doesn't have a sister."   
"Hey, kid, I dunno what your deal is with him, but he told me his   
sister would take care of him."   
"Amidala," Obi-Wan realized, oblivious to the fact that he'd spoken   
aloud.   
"Amidala? The queen's his sister?"   
"No." Obi-Wan released the aging spacer, who reached behind him   
and rubbed the pain out of his back. "He's gone to Naboo."   
"If it helps any, I sent him off with a guy I can trust. They're going   
as far as Macenek, and then the kid's on his own. I didn't like it, but he said   
you were all good with it."   
Obi-Wan automatically chalked up misuse of Jedi mind tricks to   
Anakin's growing list of crimes.   
"Can you take me there?"   
"Not this week. I got a run tomorrow that'll keep me busy 'til   
sometime middle of next week. Even had trouble getting the kid as far as   
Macenek."   
Obi-Wan nodded, thoughtfully. He stalked from the tavern,   
mentally preparing the transmission he knew he would have to send.   
  


"Your Highness, we've received a transmission from Malastare."   
"The Agricultural Minister concerning the shipping problems?"   
"No, Your Highness, this one is from the Jedi Knight Kenobi."   
"Obi-Wan Kenobi?" Queen Amidala of the Naboo raised one   
perfectly arched eyebrow. "We owe him a great debt for his services and   
sacrifices for our planet. Show me the message."   
Panaka flicked a switch on the transmitter control, and Obi-Wan   
Kenobi seemed to stand solemnly before her. She actually had very little   
contact with the Knight, though she felt she knew his fallen master well,   
and had hoped to reach out to the Padawan after his death. Obi-Wan   
remained a mystery to her, though, and she knew very little of him, save   
that he had taken young Anakin as his own Padawan.   
  
"Your Majesty," 

he began, his voice the calm, brusque tone of the quintessential Jedi. He   
sounded just like his master, Amidala realized, sadly. He had quite a bit   
more arrogance, and a bit of a humorous streak, she had thought, but the   
words of the man before her echoed strangely of Qui-Gon. 

"I come before you, humbly in need of your assistance. My   
Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, is en route to the interplanetary refueling and   
repair station, Macenek, in hopes of making his way to Naboo. Since his   
departure, I have been informed that a price has been placed on his head   
and that he is in great danger of being abducted and turned over to an   
unknown force, for reasons I have yet to discern. I respectfully request   
that he be met at Macenek and brought safely to Naboo where I will arrive   
to collect him in a week's time. My humblest gratitude." 

"Is that all?" Amidala asked.   
"Yes, Your Highness."   
"Very well. Send a ship to Macenek. I want Ric Olie as the pilot.   
Anakin will recognize and trust him. Send two members of the Royal   
Guard for protection. Prepare a room for the boy with above standard   
security measures." She smiled, slightly. "Put some old parts in it for him   
so he will not get bored. Prepare for a transmission. I wish to respond to   
Jedi Kenobi myself."   
  


Obi-Wan leaned against Anakin's tree. The bark was cool against   
the back of his neck and he fought the urge to climb high in its branches.   
The boy was halfway to Naboo, and he was waiting for him under a tree.   
Obi-Wan sighed and ran his hand through his hair. It was finally starting to   
grow out and was turning into a most ridiculous mop. He turned to go   
back to the house when the movement of a shadow caught his eye. He   
moved silently to the window, knowing it would be the escape route of   
choice. The assorted debris he and Anakin had managed to strew about   
the house made a stranger's escape nearly impossible from any other way,   
especially in the dark. He boosted himself to the sill and swung his legs   
inside. In one quick movement, he ignited his lightsaber and flipped the   
switch that illuminated the room. He found himself staring at the same   
figure he had seen at the cantina. She sat on Anakin's bed, one foot tucked   
beneath her, playing with a model Podracer. Obi-Wan stared at her.   
"Put that back!"   
She held up the model Podracer. Her eyebrow arched, quizzically.   
"Yes, that. It's Anakin's. He's coming back for it."   
Both eyebrows raised, and a hand touched her mouth. She reached   
toward Anakin's desk. The model seemed to leap from her hand and settle   
on the desk, six inches from her fingertips.   
From Obi-Wan's vantage point, he could not tell if she tossed the   
model back to its place or if it had moved from her hand by itself.   
Then, she settled back on the bed, leaning her weight on her elbows   
and tilting her head at Obi-Wan.   
He couldn't tell if she was laughing at him, flirting with him, or   
asking him a question. He felt his frustration growing.   
"What are you doing here?"   
She tilted her head in the other direction, casting her gaze upward   
and to the side, as if thinking about his question.   
"This is my home. I'll ask you once to leave." He stepped toward   
the bed.   
She kicked him square in the jaw, shifting all her weight to her arms   
as her legs jackknifed off the bed. Obi-Wan's head snapped backwards,   
causing him to stumble backward. He immediately regained his bearings   
and reignited his lightsaber, to see her curled innocently on Anakin's bed,   
again.   
"Don't like to get close to anyone, huh?" Obi-Wan asked, rubbing   
his chin.   
The corners of her eyes crinkled, winningly.   
"I don't think I like you very much."   
Her eyes widened and filled with tears.   
"My, but you're good at that. You could give Anakin lessons."   
A modest shrug, a tilt of the head, and another eye crinkle.   
"You know, this has been a very frustrating few months, so if you   
don't try to kill me or deliver whatever message you have, I'm going to   
start trying to seduce you."   
She narrowed her eyes and shook one finger at him.   
"I know, I'm very naughty. Now, why are you here?"   
She swept her hand around the room.   
"You're looking for Anakin."   
Nod.   
"He's not here. I've sent him away to keep him safe."   
She raised an eyebrow, skeptically, it seemed. She raised her hand,   
in which a piece of white paper gleamed against the darkness. The paper   
had been crumpled and smoothed back out.   
"You aren't going to find him," Obi-Wan continued, dread creeping   
over his features. He suddenly recognized the paper. Anakin's note. "You   
know."   
Nod.   
"Then why are you here?"   
She smiled. "Keep him safe, I will."   
"You won't touch him."   
She held up her hands, palms facing him, and lifted her shoulders.   
"I don't believe you."   
Her eyes clouded with anger. Before he even saw her, she was off   
the bed, and her gloved hand had whipped across his cheek. She was fast,   
but he was faster. His fingers looped around her wrist, pulling her to him.   
He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pinning her other arm to her   
side. Her foot wrapped around his ankle, sending them both to the ground.   
He pushed her over, and she let him...until the momentum took her to the   
position of superiority. He used the same trick against her, and they rolled   
across the floor, until they bumped into the leg of Anakin's bed. Obi-Wan   
found that a small piece of one of Anakin's models had been left on the   
floor and was now permanently imbedded in his shoulder. And worse yet,   
he was on the bottom. He kicked his legs up, curling his lower body over   
hers until he had flipped them all the way over. Somehow, during the roll,   
she had twisted her shoulder under his, so she was on her stomach, with   
her hands pressed under her chest. She pushed up and he wrapped his   
arms around her shoulders, immobilizing her arms. He was not expecting   
the next move.   
Ronyne shifted her weight forward and off one knee, which she   
promptly drew up and drove back in a mule kick. Obi-Wan immediately   
called on the Force to remove the pain from his throbbing groin, but his   
attention had slipped and she had escaped his embrace. He looked up to   
see her sitting on Anakin's window sill. She blew him a kiss, waved   
goodbye, and dropped out of sight.   
  


Anakin Skywalker woke up with no memory of falling asleep.   
"Hey, Trank...Trank?" He was also no longer buckled into the co-   
pilot's seat of the transport. "Trank, where am I?" He was in a small   
chamber with only one door and no windows. He was cold. "Where are   
you?" He tried the door, but found it locked. "This is not good," he told   
himself. He could feel the ship landing--which was probably what had   
woken him up. "Trank! I gotta get out so I can go to Naboo!" No   
answer. Anakin reached for his lightsaber and found it missing. He   
wondered if it had fallen from his belt when Trank moved him after falling   
asleep. He hoped it was that innocent. Concentrating hard, Anakin used   
the Force to break apart the locking mechanism in the door. He slipped   
out, silently apologizing to Trank and hoping he wouldn't have to pay for   
the door. Obi-Wan had this annoying habit of finding ways for him to pay   
for various things he destroyed. Obi-Wan. Anakin screwed up his face.   
He was still mad at him. How could he say that it wasn't right to free the   
slaves? How could it be wrong to free a slave? Did he really think it was   
wrong for Qui-Gon to free Anakin? Maybe, Anakin's small rational voice   
told him, Obi-Wan was still mad about Qui-Gon's attempt to take Anakin   
as his Padawan. After all, no matter what Qui-Gon had said after, Obi-   
Wan had still been his Padawan when he announced his intentions. Tabling   
that topic for the time being, Anakin concentrated on working his way   
through the ship's corridors to the cockpit. He never made it.   
"A resourceful child." Anakin turned a corner and came face to   
face with half a dozen strangers carrying assorted weaponry. He   
swallowed hard and reached for the lightsaber that wasn't there. Trank was   
behind the men, not meeting Anakin's accusing gaze. One of the men was   
handing him a credit chit, and he shuffled off. Anakin glanced around,   
searching for an escape route. Men were walking up behind him. He was   
about to be surrounded. He thought of Obi-Wan's lessons in self-defense.   
Too bad so many required a lightsaber. Anakin kicked the nearest man in   
the shins, and ducked between the legs of the man behind him, taking off   
down the passageway. He ran as fast as his short legs could take him, but   
he knew it was not going to be fast enough. He drew on the Force to give   
him speed, and used it to summon any loose object he could identify,   
blocking the men chasing him. He was nearly back where he started, and   
knew he had to find a new place to go. Think, he told himself. Where to   
go? The cockpit. Of course. He jumped on the first ladder he saw, trying   
to use the Force to propel himself upward, but his concentration was not as   
it should be, after so much exertion, and he was resigned to scramble up   
the rungs on his own power. He felt a hand grip his ankle, and then   
everything went black again.   
  


The Jedi Council gathered slowly, on Mace Windu's request. The   
sun had not yet risen over the city of Coruscant. When they had   
assembled, Mace Windu nodded to Ki-Adi-Mundi, who activated the   
transmission chit he had received a few short hours ago. The flickering   
image of Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi appeared. He began with the usual   
honorifics, then began the explanation every person in the room had reason   
to dread.   
  
"My Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, has had a price placed on him.   
Whoever as dared such an act is keeping his identity well-hidden, but has   
made it quite clear to the mercenary community that Anakin is to be   
delivered alive. I fear this may prove to be the more dangerous scenario.   
"I was warned of this threat by a female bounty hunter of   
indeterminate age, with an affinity for sharp objects. She claimed her   
interest in warning me stemmed solely from the desire for a greater   
challenge.   
"My interaction with this bounty hunter, who calls herself Ronyne,   
as in the Corellian legend, has brought several disturbing facts to my   
attention. She seems to be trained in the ways of the Jedi. I have   
witnessed examples of Force-enhanced speed, movement of objects, and   
most disturbing of all, I can get no sense of her. It is almost as if she does   
not exist at all. And, Master Yoda, during one of her few verbal   
communications, she...seemed to be mocking you.   
"Due to the danger to Padawan Skywalker's training, he has been   
removed to a location that shall remain undisclosed, lest this transmission   
be intercepted. I shall remain on Malastare to investigate this matter." 

Obi-Wan's image bowed slightly, flickered, and vanished.   
The Council exchanged concerned glances.   
"Troubling news, this is," Yoda rasped, leaning on his stick.   
"Jedi Knight Kenobi sent his Padawan to safety?" Eeth Koth   
questioned. "He did not allow the boy to learn and face his enemies? Jedi   
do not run and hide."   
"Skywalker may be dangerous," Mace Windu reminded his peers.   
"And whoever wants him, wants him alive. Kenobi was right to hide him."   
"I don't like this, Master Windu," Depa Billaba said. "It reeks of   
the Dark Side. We must determine the identity of the bounty's sponsor."   
"I agree," Windu nodded. "And not only that...I want to know   
about this bounty hunter.   
  


Obi-Wan Kenobi ran his hands through his still-shortish hair and sat   
heavily on the dilapidated old couch Anakin had scrounged up somewhere.   
He shifted to avoid a lump, but found another one in his new position.   
Amazing how the couch could be eminently comfortable until his life went   
up in flames. Now, even his couch had turned on him. He stood again,   
and picked up the transmission device. He turned it over in his hand and   
finally pushed the button to watch the transmission from Naboo, again.   
Queen Amidala stood before him, resplendent in her court robes   
and ceremonial facepaint. Her hair was twisted into an elaborate style that   
made her seem at least six inches taller than she really was.   
"Jedi Kenobi," she said, her voice set in its regal diction. "We on   
Naboo have long been in your debt. Even without regard for my own   
affection for Anakin, the Naboo would do whatever necessary to aid in   
your situation. My personal transport is on its way to Macenek, piloted by   
the Captain of my Air and Space Corps. Your Padawan will be kept safe.   
I promise you that, Obi-Wan Kenobi."   
Obi-Wan sighed as the transmission ended. He believed Amidala.   
The Nubians would keep Anakin safe from harm. Ric Olie, who piloted the   
Queen's transport to Coruscant, through the Trade Federation blockade   
and back, would find him. And Spath was confident in his friend. Anakin   
would have no problem getting to Macenek.   
  


This can't be Macenek, Anakin thought, gloomily, staring into a   
huge pit. He had woken up in some sort of cave structure, his hands and   
feet chained together. He was now being held by a burly man on each side   
of him, and dangled over a sort of chamber imbedded in the rocky ground.   
"Who are you, and what are you doing?" he called to the armored   
man who was studying the controls of the device. "Why are you doing this   
to me?"   
"'Cause you're worth a bundle, boy," the man replied, distractedly.   
"Me? I'm just a kid."   
"Yeah, well, I don't know what the man's going to do with you, my   
job's just to deliver the goods."   
"So you're going to drop me into a pit?"   
"Why didn't I shackle your mouth?" the bounty hunter wondered,   
annoyed.   
"What is this thing?"   
"I dunno...they use it for mining. Freeze it in carbonite, send it off.   
Figure it'll work for humans. You're too slippery to risk keeping awake."   
Great. Anakin swung himself between the two men, wondering   
how he was getting out of this one.   
"Stop squirming, kid."   
Anakin used his limited power of the Force to make the guy believe   
he was hanging perfectly still. At just the right moment, he would make   
the guy believe he wanted to let go, and bam, he was back on solid ground.   
He swinging himself harder, bringing his feet high in front of him. Now...   
He hoped the Jedi mind trick would work without him waving his hand.   
Maybe the waving of his whole body would do the trick.   
"You want to let me go," he announced, swinging hard.   
"Why would I do that?"   
Anakin's mind screamed in anger and frustration. Calm, he   
reminded himself. Patience.   
"I am just a boy. Let me go."   
At that exact moment, as he swung out again, a small knife came   
flying from the darkness, catching one man in the shoulder, ripping his arm   
away from Anakin's hand. Anakin's momentum threw him toward the lip   
of the pit, but he was pulled off balance by the other man's grip. He hit the   
edge and was scrambling not to slip down the side. The other man had   
fallen from the platform, and was now dangling from Anakin's arm. Gravel   
slipped under Anakin's boots as he pushed with both feet. His arm burned   
with the force of the man's weight, and he was almost positive it would fall   
off when the man suddenly let go. Anakin rolled his way to safety, and   
bumped against a set of booted legs. A hand jerked him upward, and the   
chains fell from his wrists and ankles. Anakin glanced up to get a good   
look at his savior, but the figure was already sinking into the shadows.   
"Run," it hissed in a gravelly whisper, snatching Anakin's hand and   
dragging him into the darkness of the unknown rock formations. Anakin   
ran.   
  


He was dreaming about Bandomeer. An ugly, little planet, where   
he was very nearly doomed to spend his life as an AgriCorps engineer.   
Where he offered to blow himself up to save the entire population of the   
planet. Where he earned his place as Qui-Gon Jinn's Padawan learner. He   
never dreamed about Bandomeer.   
And yet, here he was, scrambling up through the layers of loose   
rock, through the dark tunnels. He couldn't see. He couldn't see a damn   
thing. Something rained down on his head. His feet slipped from under   
him. He clawed at the air, praying for an exit.   
And he was out, and he was no longer on Bandomeer, he was back   
on Malastare, but it was light, and he and Anakin were training. They were   
running. Running hard. Running fast. He was easily outpacing Anakin.   
His longer legs and excellent conditioning carried him easily past his   
Padawan, and he knew he would need to work the boy harder.   
"Faster Anakin! Run faster! Faster!" He'd nearly gotten carried   
away that day, pushing the boy past his limits, yelling, not really at Anakin,   
but at himself, for not running fast enough to reach the melting pit before   
the shields reformed. Not running fast enough to stay in the battle with the   
mysterious Sith. Not running fast enough to save Qui-Gon.   
He'd caught himself before any serious damage had occurred. To   
this day, Anakin believed it was no more than a tough workout. Only Obi-   
Wan knew how tenuous his control over the situation had been.   
"Faster Anakin! Run faster! Faster!" This time, he felt no   
wavering of control. The boy had to run fast. The boy had to run as fast   
as his stubby little legs would carry him. Faster. He had to use the Force.   
Obi-Wan could not end this training exercise. And yet, he was secure in   
his demands. "RUN! FASTER, ANI! FASTER!"   
  


Anakin's small feet pounded the ground hard as he pressed to keep   
up with the wraith in front of him. How anyone could run that fast in a   
cloak creating that much drag was beyond him. The person was dressed all   
in black, and Anakin suspected the figure underneath was female, simply   
because of the small size and delicate limbs. She ran without tiring, and   
Anakin's mind was brought back to Obi-Wan. He chided himself, knowing   
he should be concentrating on the movement of his arms and legs in   
synchronization, of making the ground move under him, but all he could   
hear was Obi-Wan shouting at him.   
"Faster Anakin! Run faster! Faster!" The phrase repeated itself   
over and over in Anakin's mind, not letting him give his sore and tired body   
a moment's quarter, pushing himself as hard as he could. Even Obi-Wan   
had calmed down eventually, but in Anakin's mind, he would not stop   
shouting, and Anakin would not slow down. He saw himself running next   
to Obi-Wan, imagining himself racing him, running hard, ignoring the   
distance, pretending there was no one after him, pretending it was only a   
Master and a Padawan, trying hard to prove each other the better runner.   
He stretched out his legs, drawing the Force to move his body faster, give   
him strength, and remove his weariness. This technique finally proved   
successful, and Anakin managed to stay only a few steps behind his rescuer   
until she wheeled to the left, whipping out a control and opening the door   
to a small, private spacecraft, well-hidden amongst the leaves.   
"In," she hissed, pushing him through the door and throwing herself   
in the pilot's seat. Anakin scrambled into the co-pilot's place, a quick   
glance at the instrument panel orienting him with the controls. She toggled   
the air-intake valve, ignited the engines, and adjusted the fuel intake.   
Within seconds, the tiny craft was airborne and headed through the   
polluted atmosphere of Bandomeer.   
"Hey, um, thanks for saving me, there," Anakin said, curious about   
the figure next to him. "My name's Anakin. What's yours?"   
The hood turned toward him for a split second. It was too dark to   
see any part of her face, and Anakin wondered if there was really any   
corporeal body inside the folds of black cloth. He waited what seemed like   
an eternity to hear the gravelly voice finally whisper, "Ronyne."   
  


Obi-Wan shot straight up. The sheets were twisted around his legs,   
and soaked with sweat. He kicked them off, impatiently, and stood,   
wearing only his breeches, in the tiny room. He took several deep breaths,   
gathering air into his lungs and rolling the tight muscles in his shoulders.   
His pounding heart began to subside to its normal rhythm, and breathing   
became easier. He gathered the calm the Force provided around him like a   
cool blanket. The night was hot, but a soft breeze ruffled his hair and dried   
the sweat on his face. It brought the scents of Anakin's tree, from the   
backyard, of the motor grease and oil that seemed to associate itself with   
Anakin, and of...smoke? Obi-Wan sniffed and lifted one of his robes,   
pressing it to his face. It smelled of the thick, cloying smoke that had   
obscured his senses in the cantina. But the smell was not coming from the   
robes. He dropped the garment, scooping up his lightsaber as he padded   
hastily for Anakin's room. He paused outside the door, listening, then   
slammed the door open. The room was empty.   
  


"Ronyne? Are you the bounty hunter?" Anakin's eyes widened to   
resemble china blue versions of Obi-Wan's horrendous keth patties. He   
couldn't believe he had just gotten saved by a real, live bounty hunter. Not   
only that, but a real, live, legendary bounty hunter. Her head moved   
marginally in an affirmative nod. "Wow! That's so wizard! Did you really   
get burned up in a ship explosion? How many guys have you killed? Can I   
see your knives? How come you saved me?"   
His answer was a backhand across the head that stole his   
consciousness.   
  


"Explain your statement."   
"Well, Your Highness," Ric Olie said, over the long-distance   
transmission. "If Anakin left this morning, and he was on a decent ship, the   
latest he should have been here was an hour ago. If that boy's on this   
R&R, I'll eat my wings."   
"That won't be necessary, Captain Olie." The Queen suppressed a   
smile. "Possibly his ship was detained. Or he already found a ride to   
Naboo. He is a small boy, and small boys are excellent seekers of small   
nooks and crannies."   
"I'll keep looking," Ric Olie conceded. "I won't leave here 'til I   
know where that kid got himself off to."   
"Very well." Amidala ended the transmission and looked back at   
her handmaidens, worriedly. "How likely is it that Anakin has already been   
detained by a bounty hunter?" she asked the room in general.   
"Do not fret, m'lady," Sache said, practically. "Young Anakin is   
training to be a Jedi. They are a most resourceful people."   
"His Master certainly looks resourceful," Sabe said, smiling at her   
Queen. "It was certainly fun to watch his resources travel themselves   
around the ship while we were on Tatooine."   
"Sabe! For shame! Making eyes at Jedi Kenobi!" Amidala could   
not help but to laugh with Sabe and her other handmaidens. Eirtae   
exchanged glances with Rabe. At least the Queen was laughing. What else   
were handmaidens for?   
  


Anakin opened his eyes and sighed. He was tired of waking up in   
strange places with no memories of going to sleep. This time he seemed to   
be in a small metal cage. He started to sit up and cracked his head on the   
ceiling. He kicked and encountered more metal. He pushed to the side.   
He looked up and saw that the part in front of him was grated. He pushed,   
and it gave a little, but not enough. Then, he realized it was a door and   
that the latch could easily be tripped from the inside. He opened the door   
and nearly fell out, before he realized he was in a top-row locker in some   
sort of terminal. He wriggled around until he could slide out and land   
safely on two feet. He sighed and looked around. Where could he possibly   
be, now? He wandered through several more locker rooms, following   
signs that advertised "Main Concourse" in several different languages, until   
he came to a large area populated by grimy spacers, greasy restaurants, and   
several small repair shops. He quickly scanned the signs.   
"I'm on Macenek," he realized, wondering if his entire experience   
on Bandomeer had just been a result of a truly nasty dream sequence. He   
started to wander toward one of the shops, intending to continue with his   
plan to find a ride to Naboo.   
"Hey, kid."   
Anakin did not notice the man until he tapped him on the shoulder.   
"Kid, are you Anakin Skywalker?"   
Anakin looked at him in surprise. "Yeah. Who are you?"   
"My name's Mott Karden. I'm a Nubian pilot. Queen Amidala sent   
me to bring you to Naboo."   
"She sent someone?" Anakin could not believe his luck. How had   
Padme known he was coming?   
"Sure. Your buddy sent her a transmission and she decided to give   
you a lift."   
"Wizard. Are we leaving, now?"   
"Sure thing. I got some food on board. You hungry?"   
"Starving."   
"Come on. We're at docking bay 327."   
Anakin followed the uniformed pilot, his mind relaxing, his   
thoughts possessed by jackleberry jam sandwiches and Padme.   
  
Look around.   
  
The voice echoed in Anakin's mind, surprising him. Only Obi-Wan   
had ever spoken in his head before. And this was not Obi-Wan's voice.   
This voice was sweet and low and feminine. Still, he jerked his head up,   
scanning the concourse of the R&R. Conscious of the Naboo pilot beside   
him, Anakin felt for the Force, and allowed his eyes to be drawn to a   
nearby cantina. He blinked and looked again.   
Ric Olie was sitting in a window booth, sipping something from a   
mug.   
Anakin glanced up at the man who was swiftly ushering him to the   
hanger bay. If Ric Olie was here, this man must be an impostor. For the   
first time, Anakin could sense the deception emanating from him. It was   
something with which he was unfamiliar, and he had not automatically   
picked up on this feeling. He could almost hear Obi-Wan chiding him to   
listen to his feelings, and mentally shut him up. He didn't need to be   
reminded of all his mistakes, he decided. He used his limited control over   
the Force to cloud the man's mind as he slipped away to the cantina.   
"Ric!" Anakin trotted up to the older man.   
"Anakin! Figured you'd come in here eventually if you were   
looking for a ship."   
"So Padme, uh, Queen Amidala did send you?"   
"Yeah. Kenobi called and asked us to give you a lift. Thought   
you'd get here a little sooner."   
"Ric..." Anakin bit his lip. "Ric, the guy who was supposed to   
bring me here, he took me somewhere else, some mining place. He was   
going to freeze me in carbonite and take me to someone. And just a few   
minutes ago, some other guy came up and said he was a Naboo pilot and   
he was supposed to pick me up."   
"No way, kid. The Queen sent me, since you'd know me, even if I   
missed you somehow."   
"Ric...What's going on?"   
"Someone's trying to have you kidnapped, Ani. Obi-Wan found out   
and he's trying to keep you safe until he can figure out who it is and why. I   
got a couple of Panaka's guys with me. We're gonna get you back to   
Naboo. They ain't gonna get you, kid."   
Anakin nodded solemnly, and let Ric lead him out of the cantina.   
As soon as they left the doors, two Naboo palace guards fell in step behind   
them. Anakin concentrated, as Obi-Wan taught him, staying mindful of his   
surroundings.   
Ric Olie had flown the Queen's personal transport, a J-type 327   
Nubian. It gleamed slick and silver in its bay. Anakin recognized that ship.   
It was the first space ship he'd ever flown in. He was suddenly hit with a   
feeling of deja vu, as a cold feelings crept through him. Space was so cold.   
  


"We need a list of every female initiate not to be taken as an   
Padawan apprentice," Adi Gallia, proposed.   
"What if she was taken as a Padawan?" Ki-Adi-Mundi proposed.   
"Do we have any sort of time reference?" Mace Windu suggested.   
"Not really," Depa Billaba said. "Jedi Kenobi said she was a   
legendary bounty hunter. It takes quite a bit of time to become legendary."   
"But she can't be that old, if she can still keep up with her   
reputation," Yarael Poof pointed out.   
"Age matters not," Yoda reminded them. "Older than any of you, I   
am. Weak, I am not."   
"What if she was never an initiate?" Eeth Koth suggested. "What if   
she was just a Force-sensitive who was overlooked? Or maybe someone   
else trained her."   
"Are you suggesting a Jedi knight who knew she was too old to   
enter traditional training, or a Sith?" Mace Windu questioned.   
"Either."   
"A Sith," Yoda repeated, thoughtfully.   
"You believe she is the other? The one who was not destroyed?"   
"No. Sith, she is not. Jalen-Ka's Padawan, you remember?"   
"She was destroyed," Mace Windu replied.   
"Destroyed? Perhaps. Perhaps not."   
  


Obi-Wan Kenobi sat on his lumpy couch, consulting his pad of   
questions. The Council had sent him a transmission, quizzing him on many   
of the details of the bounty hunter, and of his investigation into the   
kidnapping threat. He had talked to countless spacers, bounty hunters,   
mercenaries, and barmaids. The barmaids turned out to be the most   
talkative, but the least useful. In short, he was making little to no progress.   
And now, the Council had a list of queries, many of which barely made   
sense to the young Jedi.   
Her race. Her age. A detailed critique of her skills, both with the   
Force and without. How old was the legend? How many men was she to   
have killed? Any accent or strange inflection to her words? Ability to   
speak other languages? Which ones? Scars or distinguishing physical   
characteristics? Obi-Wan was starting to wish he had attempted to seduce   
her. He'd have a much better idea for the answers the Council sought. He   
sighed and laid the pad next to him on the couch. The house was strangely   
quiet without Anakin, and Obi-Wan wondered what his Padawan would   
say about all this. And then he knew. All he had to do was ask her.   
  


Ric Olie nudged a sleeping Anakin. "Wake up, kid. We're there."   
"Wha--huh?" Anakin blinked sleepy eyes. At least I woke up in the   
same place I went to sleep this time, he thought.   
"C'mon, the Queen's waiting for you."   
"She is?" Anakin was suddenly wide awake, jumping to his feet.   
He tried desperately to wipe his grimy tunic clean, but there was no way of   
salvaging that particular piece of clothing.   
"Yeah, c'mon. Let's go." Ric clambored off the ship, followed the   
the Royal guards, and Anakin. "An' be respectful," he hissed over his   
shoulder.   
Their small group came to a half in front of the ornately made-up   
Queen, three handmaidens, and a contingent of Palace guards, including   
Captain Panaka.   
"Welcome, Jedi Padawan Skywalker," the Queen said, her voice   
hard with the royal inflections.   
"Thank you, Your Highness," Anakin replied, bowing.   
"I understand your safety has been threatened. We will use any   
means in our capacity to keep you safe, but we must request that you   
cooperate. Two guards will be stationed outside the door to your room.   
You may roam anywhere in the palace, but we ask that you be escorted,   
for your own protection. Padme will show you to your room and help you   
with anything you may require." The Queen's face slipped into the faintest   
hint of a smile as Anakin's eyes widened, and he looked at her more   
closely, then scanned the array of handmaidens. One of them winked at   
him from behind her orange hood.   
"Yes, Ma'am!" he exclaimed, remembering a hasty bow before   
taking off with Padme.   
The false Queen and her entire entourage turned, smiling, to watch   
Anakin bounce out of the hanger with Padme.   
  


The floor was dusty and gritty and the air was thick with smoke   
laced with spices outlawed on many worlds, including this one. Though   
few noticed when a cloaked figure opened the door, a path to the bar   
melted into existance as the nightly rabble was quieted by an artificially   
produced sense of awe and respect. The figure made its way, smoothly   
and austerely, to the center of the bar, where it turned, ascertaining that it   
had the attention of the entire congregation.   
Only then, did the rough, brown hood fall back to reveal Obi-Wan   
Kenobi. He held up a twisted, wicked-looking dagger, and without   
looking, thrust it into the wood of the bar.   
"Tell Ronyne I'm returning her knife."   
  


"Obi-Wan really sent you a transmission and wanted someone to   
pick me up?" Anakin wanted to know.   
"Of course, Anakin. He cares for you, very, very much."   
Anakin failed to reply, except for a sarcastic snort, if a snort can be   
interpreted as sarcastic.   
"Anakin."   
Anakin shuffled and ducked his head under the intensity of Padme's   
stare.   
"We're here." She ushered him into the room, and sat down on the   
bed. "Come here and give me a hug."   
"Can I do that? I mean, since you're a queen now, and all?"   
"I always was Queen, silly. It just means that now I can order you   
around."   
"Ok." Anakin's smile could have lit up Coruscant as he hugged   
Padme tightly.   
"I've missed you, Anakin," she said, holding him at arm's length.   
"Thank you for the letters and the transmissions. I've enjoyed them both."   
"Oh, that was Ob--" Anakin trailed off.   
"That was Obi-Wan's idea?"   
Anakin nodded, grudgingly.   
"Ani, what happened? I thought things were going ok...except for   
the food thing."   
"Yeah, well..."   
"You can tell me if you want, but you don't have to."   
To his embarrassment, Anakin felt a major sniffle coming on. "I   
wanted to Podrace. And Obi-Wan was busy all day and made me practice   
this stupid patience exercise. But I got bored, so I went to help one of my   
friends with her Pod..."   
Padme's mouth quirked as she tried to repress a smile at the irony   
of Anakin's predicament.   
"...and Obi-Wan flipped and started yelling at me. We got in this   
big fight about why he doesn't think I should Podrace and about gambling   
and stuff, and he said I should have stayed a slave."   
Padme arched an eyebrow at Anakin. "He just said that? 'Anakin, I   
sure wish you were still a slave?'"   
Anakin traced a floorboard with his boot. "Well...I don't think it   
went exactly like that." It hadn't, and he knew it. And now, now that he   
was safe, he was starting to wish that maybe he hadn't gotten in that fight   
with Obi-Wan.   
"How did it go?"   
"Well, I was talking about Qui-Gon betting Watto...and betting me,   
and he said that 'just 'cause Qui-Gon did it, didn't make it right.'" He   
managed to finish with a semi-repressed sniffle.   
"Oh, Ani." Padme looked at him sadly. "I'm going to explain some   
things to you, and you may not like them, but I'm only going to tell you the   
truth, all right?"   
Anakin hesitated a moment, then nodded, reluctantly.   
"Had Qui-Gon survived the battle with the Sith, he would have   
been called before the Jedi Council and severely reprimanded. If not   
worse. He took a very big gamble with some very big stakes, and he got   
very lucky. We got a wonderful gift from that gamble, you, Ani, but Qui-   
Gon could just as easily have lost his bet, and then you would still be a   
slave, Watto would own the Pod and my transport, and we would all still   
be on Tatooine. We would never have spoken to the Senate, and Naboo   
would still be in the hands of the Trade Federation. We were very lucky,   
but the Jedi are not supposed to rely on luck. They are supposed to be   
logical and impartial. Just because Obi-Wan does not agree with Master   
Qui-Gon's methods, does not mean that he does not love the results. I   
know he did not want to stay on Tatooine. He did not want Naboo to stay   
in the hands of the Federation. He did not want you to stay as a slave."   
Anakin answered her with a deep sigh.   
"I knoooow that," he said in that long-suffering tone that only   
children who wish they did not have to grow up can manage.   
"But you don't like it."   
"Well..." Anakin fidgeted on the bed. "Why do you have to make   
it sound so bad?"   
Padme smiled. "I'm sorry, Anakin. It's just the truth. And we don't   
always like the truth, but it happens, anyway."   
"I know."   
Padme was silent for a few moments, letting Anakin think. "Can I   
ask you something, Ani?"   
"Sure."   
"What did Obi-Wan call Qui-Gon when he was alive?"   
Anakin scrunched up his face, remembering. "I think he just called   
him Master. Maybe Master Qui-Gon."   
"Mmm-hmm." Padme waited for the parallel to dawn on Anakin.   
She found herself waiting quite a while. "And what do you call your   
Master?"   
"You mean Obi-Wan?"   
Padme closed her eyes against Anakin's obtuseness.   
"Oh."   
She opened them again.   
"I don't call him Master, do I?" He ducked his head as he thought   
about that. The other initiates had sneered at him, at his ignorance of Jedi   
customs and respect.   
"I haven't heard you do so," Padme offered, tactfully.   
"Do you think that's like a big insult or something?"   
Padme shrugged gracefully. "I don't know. I'm not a Jedi. You   
might want to ask one when you see one."   
"Padme?"   
"Yes, Ani?"   
"Do you think if I said I was sorry...and really meant it, and started   
calling him Master Obi-Wan, it would be ok if I went home?"   
"You'll have to ask him, Ani. But for right now, you're going to   
stay with us so my men can keep you safe."   
"Is Ob--Master Obi-Wan coming, or is he staying on Malastare?"   
"I don't know, Ani. He sent this for you, though. Maybe that will   
help." She handed him a holo-message projector she had tucked away in   
the folds of her robe. Good luck, Ani. I hope you find what you are   
looking for." She gave him a quick peck on the forehead and rose to go.   
She saw that Anakin's attention was already fixated on the projector, and   
used his distraction to slip quietly out the door.   
  


"No, Master Yoda! She can not be alive!"   
"Deceiving, appearances can be."   
"No, Yoda, I know. I saw what happened."   
"A body, you saw not."   
"She became one with the Force. We talked about that. We felt it.   
We found her cloak."   
"Perhaps wounded, she was."   
"No. She could not have survived that cut on her own. I killed   
her!"   
  


Anakin's chubby fingers turned the projector around and around.   
Obi-Wan had been teaching him to combat his fear. Do not let fear   
substitute thought for action, he remembered. Resolutely, he placed the   
projector on the flat-topped nightstand and pressed the button. His   
mentor, fully garbed in his Jedi attire stood solemnly before him. 

"If you are listening to this, Anakin, I trust you have arrived safely   
at Naboo."   
  
"Safely, my butt," Anakin snorted. 

"You should know that I deeply regret the words and actions that   
have led to this situation. With the time you have been allotted by your   
journey, I hope you are able to look back on our argument and see that the   
misunderstanding occurred as a result of too many words being spoken too   
quickly at the same time.   
"As I'm sure Queen Amidala has informed you, and I do hope you   
are doing honor to your position and hers by calling her Queen Amidala   
and not Padme--"   
  
"Oops," Anakin muttered, unapologetically. 

"--a bounty has been placed on you. Someone is paying a lot of   
money to have you kidnapped." The Jedi's eyes seemed to bore into him.   
"I will not let that happen, Anakin. I have been investigating the matter,   
and I expect you to stay under the care of the Nubian guard until we figure   
out what is going on. I will be on Naboo in a week's time. Then, we'll talk   
about bringing you home.   
"Until then, my young Padawan, keep yourself safe. May the Force   
be with you." 

Anakin played the holo twice more, before one of the handmaidens   
came to get him for dinner.   
  


Obi-Wan sat in the same booth as before, at precisely eight in the   
evening. He sat alone.   
  


"Would you care for some more roast ghanak?" the Queen asked   
Anakin.   
"Please, Your Highness," Anakin replied, formally. "Master Obi-   
Wan also makes a...version of this dish. I must compliment your chef,   
though. His recipe is excellent."   
A shadow of a smile crossed Amidala's face. She'd received enough   
letters and holos rife with complaint of Obi-Wan's cooking to read between   
the lines. A specific reference to keth patties wafted through her mind, and   
in seconds, she had dissolved into a fit of quite undignified giggles. The   
handmaidens exchanged glances, wondering if the stress of ruling a planet   
had finally caught up with their darling ruler.   
  


Obi-Wan slept fitfully. Ronyne had not shown up for the meeting   
he'd requested. Before plunging the knife into the bar, he had slipped a   
paper from his sleeve, stating only, "Tonight. Same time. Same place."   
And she had ignored him. Nightmares plagued him; dreams of dark   
creatures taking Anakin, Obi-Wan trapped helpless by shadows. He came   
awake, his senses screaming danger. He jumped from his bed and   
instinctively ran to Anakin's room. The light came on, and there she was,   
curled up on Anakin's bed, playing with the Podracer.   
Obi-Wan felt the tension drain from him, and be replaced with   
another kind of anticipation. She had shown, after all. She had merely   
shown at the same time and place as the immediate previous meeting. He   
crossed his arms across his chest and looked pointedly at the toy in her   
hand.   
She sighed and sent the Podracer back to its place on Anakin's   
desk. She then spread her hands in a question.   
"I have a proposition for you."   
She leaned back on her elbows, her eyes traveling up and down his   
body in a way that almost caused him to blush, taking in his bare chest,   
loose breeches, and bare feet. She tilted her head to the side and twirled   
one finger around, indicating he should turn around.   
He nearly found himself doing so, before catching himself. "Now   
who's being naughty?" he muttered, glaring at her.   
She sighed elaborately.   
"Ronyne."   
The sound of her name made her sit up and stare at him intently.   
"I want to make a bet."   
"A bet." Her attention piqued, she sat forward on the bed, shifting   
her weight to her knees. She moved forward, cocking her head.   
"A bet. If you win...I'll give you Anakin."   
Her eyes widened, then narrowed immediately.   
"If I win...you get the bounty removed."   
She pointed to herself, staring at him in disbelief, then shaking her   
head, decisively.   
"Find a way."   
She looked away for a long moment. Finally, she turned back and   
nodded. Her eerie green eyes searched his face, looking for something   
deeper.   
"The cantina, tomorrow night, at eight. Same booth. We'll do it   
there."   
She nodded. Her eyes never leaving his, she slid off the bed,   
leaving her cloak puddled behind her. She slunk up to him, reaching up to   
touch his face with one finger.   
"If you lose?" she rasped.   
Obi-Wan forced himself to ignore the sensation of the soft leather   
against his unshaven skin.   
"I don't intend to lose," he replied, mirroring the gesture, running   
his finger up the soft material of the cowl that hid her features. Her eyes   
seemed to soften to him, and he opened his hand into a caress. What   
happened next, neither could describe.   
Obi-Wan pulled her closer; Ronyne pulled away. He tried to hold   
onto her, and ended up with a handful of cowl; she twisted to the side, and   
jerked down. The cloth slipped easily from her head, and for a moment,   
neither really comprehended what had happened. Obi-Wan stared at the   
cloth in his hand. Ronyne stared at the floor. In an instant, the slow   
motion in which they seemed trapped broke, and his eyes were searching   
for her face, and her boot was in his throat. As he flew backward, he   
grabbed her ankle, throwing her into Anakin's chest of drawers. He was on   
his feet in seconds, she was slower. He grabbed for her, and captured her   
wrist. She pulled a small dagger, seemingly from nowhere. He slapped it   
away from her hand, and it clattered on the floor. Somehow, another   
appeared in her hand, and this time, he received a nick on the forearm   
before getting his thumb on the pressure point that forced her hand open.   
She swung her foot at his ankle, knocking him off balance. She pulled her   
hand loose and came up with another knife.   
"Where are those things coming from?" Obi-Wan grated out as he   
swept his now-free hand backward and grabbed the lightsaber he had set   
down minutes ago. He slammed the metal handle into her head.   
The force of Obi-Wan's blow sent Ronyne spinning to her hands   
and knees. He stood over her, lightsaber ignited.   
"Pull another knife," he told her, "and you'll die, right here, right   
now."   
She pulled her torso up, kneeling. Her toes pressed against the   
wood floor, as she stared straight ahead.   
With a wave of dizziness, Obi-Wan realized that he knew that pose.   
Qui-Gon had knelt in exactly the same way when he was trapped in the   
hallway of lights with the Sith Lord. Obi-Wan had watched him kneel in   
meditation, toes prepared to spring from the floor, head held straight and   
high with pride. As he watched, her head dropped, her gaze finding the   
floor. Slowly, deliberately, she moved her arms behind her, crossing her   
hands at the wrist. The position of defeat. She was giving up. Obi-Wan   
felt sick.   
His lightsaber handle hit the floor wtih a loud and distinctive clatter.   
Obi-Wan sank slowly to a crouch, studying the profile of the unmasked   
mercenary.   
"You're not scarred at all, are you?" he asked, amazed to see   
smooth, pale skin where he'd expected angry, red, bubbled burn scars.   
She tensed, the strain evident in the set of her shoulders and the   
tightness in her mouth.   
He reached for her and was surprised when she did not flinch. With   
two fingers, tucked under her chin, Obi-Wan turned her head so he could   
see the other side of her face.   
He congratulated himself on not reacting to the rope of scar tissue   
that slashed angrily down her face, from temple to chin, and down, into the   
top of her tunic. It was straight, and thin, and white with age; a puffed   
crease sliding down her face. Obi-Wan reached out and traced the mark   
gently with one fingertip. She did not move, and Obi-Wan suspected she   
could not even feel his caress.   
"That's a lightsaber scar," he said, quietly.   
She slapped his hand away.   
"I'm sorry. How far does it run?"   
Her gloved hand hooked in the top of her tunic and pulled it down,   
showing him how the scar cut down her neck, and sliding her hand   
sideways to follow it across her throat, into her collarbone on the opposite   
side, and stopping under her arm. Then, she let go of the collar, the   
material sliding up quickly to hide the worst of the scar. She held her hand   
out expectantly, demanding her hood.   
Obi-Wan ran the cloth through his hands, the material slipping   
easily over his fingers. He raised his hand to his mouth, dangling the cowl   
in front of her. "Tell me who did that to you, and you can have your hood   
back."   
She glared at him, holding her hand closer.   
"Not 'til you tell me." He twitched his hand, letting the soft cloth   
swing, gently.   
Her mouth twisted into a painful grimace, and she broke eye   
contact for a long moment. Then, she looked straight back at him and   
rolled up on her feet.   
"Windu," she growled, snatching the cloth from his suddenly slack   
grasp.   
"But...but that means..."   
She glared at him as she yanked her mask back on.   
"That means you are Jalen-Ka's Padawan--"   
He was talking to an empty room.   
  


"You look prettier without all that stuff on your face," Anakin   
announced, when he was let back into Amidala's room.   
"Thanks." Amidala grimaced as she unwound her hair from its   
elaborate style. "There...I think my handmaidens sit up at night and think   
up these hairstyles." She shook her hair free.   
"Why can't you just look like that?"   
"It's tradition, Anakin. Besides, I couldn't hide out as Padme   
without it." She grinned at Anakin. "And I wouldn't have Sabe to con into   
imitating me at boring functions...and I can wear boots under those big   
dresses..."   
  


Obi-Wan sank down on Anakin's bed, noticing Ronyne's cloak   
pooled beside him. He picked it up absently, rubbing it between his fingers.   
It was soft, he noted, softer than anything he'd ever worn.   
Jalen-Ka's Padawan. The Jedi turned Sith and his Padawan. At the   
time, it had been hotly debated whether the Padawan had turned Sith, or   
was just defending her Master when she was struck down. There had been   
rumor that she had lived, since there was no body, but that had died out   
with the next scandal. Obi-Wan had been at the Temple then, studying as   
an initiate, and he'd heard the murmurings, but had been relatively shielded   
from the actual talk.   
And she had just been in his home, kneeling on his floor.   
Obi-Wan sensed a sweet, smoky smell, and realized he had her   
cloak bundled to his chest. It still smelled like the Cantina, he thought,   
lifting it to his face. The fabric crumpled softly in his hand, slipping over   
his bare torso. He wrinkled his nose, the heady scent making him dizzy.   
He threw the cloak to the ground and went outside, into the cool, night air,   
wondering if he was slowly losing his mind.   
  


Mace Windu sat alone in meditation, events from fifteen years ago   
playing themselves out in his head. The transmission from the Rodian   
government, warning the council of the possibility that Jalen-Ka, a most   
respected and trusted Master, training his third Padawan, not because there   
was no place for him on the Council, but because he loved to train the   
young Jedi, had gone to the Darkside. The heated debate and disbelief.   
Finally, he and Yoda had left for Rodia to investigate the situation. Jalen-   
Ka, driven mad by the death of a former Padawan had attacked them; they   
had defended themselves. Jalen-Ka's current Padawan, still just a girl,   
maybe not even 15, had charged into the room, intent on saving her   
Master. It had only been one slash of his lightsaber, he remembered. She   
was inexperienced. She had joined the fight on the offensive. She had left   
her side wide open. She had not blocked as he'd expected. The sound and   
stench of searing flesh as his lightsaber arced through her body was still   
etched in his mind. She fell to the ground, wounds gushing blood despite   
the cauterizing effect of the lightsaber. The betrayal, so evident in her eyes   
as she'd seen her attacker, had broken his heart. Then, Jalen-Ka had   
attacked with such an intense fury, they had barely managed to dispatch   
him. When he had returned to the fallen Padawan...she was gone. Her   
cloak and lightsaber remained on the floor, charred and forlorn. There was   
no body. She'd had no tendencies toward the Darkside. She was merely   
trying to protect her beloved Master. They had agreed that she had   
become one with the Force; her physical manifestation dissolving into that   
which had formed it. It was rare, though not unheard of. And he had hung   
onto that possibility, forcing it into a truth. Mace Windu looked up, tears   
pouring down his face. If he had indeed done what had to be done, why   
did his soul feel so tainted?   
  


Obi-Wan turned the glass of ale around in his hands. He had not   
taken any of the beverage the glass contained. He would need to be at his   
most alert for Ronyne. If she showed. Frankly, he was surprised he was   
still alive, after seeing her face and realizing who she was. He looked up   
from the glass and nearly jumped to see her sitting across from him. She   
melted into the darkness of the booth, with only her glowing green eyes   
staring lasers into him.   
"I believe this is yours," he said, picking up the black bundle of her   
cloak from the seat beside him and handing in across the table.   
She nodded her thanks.   
"Thank you for coming."   
She spread her hands in a questioning manner.   
"I behaved inappropriately last night. I wasn't sure you were going   
to come."   
"I wasn't sure I was going to let you live."   
Obi-Wan blinked at her. "Why did you?" His hand closed on his   
lightsaber, under the table. Was this just her prelude to an attack?   
Her eyes crinkled at the corners and she leaned forward, over the   
table. "Your Padawan."   
"You want him that bad." It was not a question   
She shook her head. Then, her eyes twisted into what Obi-Wan   
was coming to recognize as a smile and she nodded at him.   
"You knew that with my Padawan in danger, I'd do anything to   
keep him safe...including keeping your secret."   
She nodded, again.   
"So, let's get down to business." Obi-Wan brought a pack of cards   
from his robes and set them on the table. "Are you familiar with poker?"   
  


"She cheats!" Anakin announced, glaring at Sabe.   
"What?" Sabe answered, innocently. She spread her arms wide,   
looking around.   
"You cheat! You have cards up your sleeves!"   
"Says the boy with sleeves that hide his hands."   
"I'm going to be a Jedi! I'm not allowed to cheat!"   
"Sabe, Anakin," Sache started, quietly.   
"How do we know you aren't using mind tricks?"   
"'Cause I'm a rotten Jedi and I suck at them!"   
"Both of you, calm down," Eirtae commanded. "Sabe, give it up.   
We all know you--" She reached across the table to add chips to the pot,   
accidently dumping two cards from her sleeve. "Whoops."   
"And you say I cheat!" Sabe yelled, gleefully.   
Amidala just grinned.   
  


Obi-Wan split the deck and dealt the cards, keeping his eyes on   
Ronyne every second. She shrugged her cloak from her shoulders. He did   
the same.   
  


"Deal again. This hand's screwed."   
"Language, ladies!"   
"Ladies? Where?"   
  


For the first time, Obi-Wan could feel her presence, and he felt it   
overwhelmingly. It seemed every move he made was somehow felt by her   
and that every move she made caressed his own aura. They seemed to be   
meshed in a dance of wills; a game neither would concede. Cards flashed   
and traded and moved about the table as if on automation. Obi-Wan began   
to feel dizzy with the intensity of the game. Ronyne's eyes, her hands, the   
cards, all swam before his face. Was she doing this to him? He reached   
out and grabbed her wrist.   
"Let's slow this down, shall we?" He let his hand drift over the   
buttersoft leather of her glove.   
She raised her hand to his, and their fingers interlocked, caressing.   
She slid her fingertips lower, down his palm, around his wrist...and pulled a   
card from his voluminous sleeve. She flipped it around so he could see   
which one she had pulled, and hit him on the nose with it. Shaking her   
head, she dealt.   
  


"Anakin, they're handmaidens. They all cheat," Amidala whispered   
in the boy's ear. "With them, it's not about learning to win, it's about   
learning not to lose too much."   
  


"Ale?" Obi-Wan offered, helpfully, sliding his glass to her.   
Ronyne gestured to her covered mouth and stared at him,   
witheringly.   
"Take it off." Obi-Wan lifted a hand to her face, letting his fingers   
play with the edge of her cowl.   
Her eyes showed her alarm, and she started to pull back.   
But when Obi-Wan pulled his hand away, it was not her cowl   
between his fingers, but the Queen of Spades.   
"And you say I cheat."   
  


"Noooooo! I hate you all!" Rabe collapsed in a heap on the floor.   
Sabe stared at her. "What's her problem?"   
"Nerves," Eirtae said, calmly, chewing on an unlit cigar.   
"Ei? Where did you get that?" Sache demanded.   
"Ric Olie. What? I didn't light it."   
  


Ronyne reached for Obi-Wan's ale.   
"I thought you had issues with that."   
She glared at him over the rim of the mug. When she set the empty   
glass down, her cowl was firmly in place.   
"How'd you do that?"   
Ronyne rolled her eyes and slouched behind her cards.   
  


Amidala and Anakin had long since given up on trying to play with   
the increasingly ruthless handmaidens, and had resorted to gawking from   
the sidelines.   
"I'll see your five and raise you a ten," Sabe offered, tossing her   
chips into the pot.   
"A ten? Are you trying to bluff me?"   
"Bluff you? I can't bluff."   
"You're the Queen's imposter. Your job's to bluff."   
"Oh, well, when you put it that way. Call. Oh, look, full house.   
My pot. C'mere, baby."   
  


Six shots and four hands later, Ronyne was still winning and Obi-   
Wan was still alcohol-free. He studied his cards, gauging his luck, as she   
built small structures with her cards and an unnaturally steady hand. He   
glanced, annoyed, at her playthings, and used the Force to knock them   
over.   
She scowled at him.   
He felt somewhat childish and petty. But not too much.   
"Raise you ten."   
She yawned, stretching her arms over her head, and brought her   
hand down with a thirty-credit chip in it, which she tossed on the growing   
pile.   
"Thirty? That's somewhat rich. What do you have over there?"   
She gave him a blatantly seductive look.   
"You're being naughty, again, aren't you? I suppose I'll have to see   
that thirty and raise you another twenty to get an answer, eh?"   
She saw his twenty and threw the rest of her credit chips on the   
stack.   
"All of it?" Obi-Wan stared at her, knowing she was forcing the   
final hand. What did she have? He couldn't afford to let her have the   
entire pot as it stood. Slowly, he pushed the remaining credit chips toward   
the middle. "I call."   
  


Anakin was asleep on the floor. Amidala looked down at him.   
"Poor little guy," she murmured. "Girls, I think we wore him out."   
"You cheat!" Rabe screeched.   
  


His hand hovered inches above the table.   
Her hand hovered inches above the table.   
  


Amidala brushed her hand through Anakin's unruly locks and   
wondered how close Obi-Wan was to discovering the truth of the matter.   
  


The cards hit the table.   
  


Anakin shot upright.   
"Padme!" he gasped. "I had this horrible dream!"   
  


Obi-Wan stared at the cards on the table.   
"Two pair? You bet all that on two pair?" He stared at her   
assortment of eights and kings.   
She shrugged eloquently, gesturing to his three tens.   
"You called my bluff."   
  


"What was it, Ani?"   
"It was...I don't remember, now." Anakin sat back in confusion.   
"Well, it's all over, now," Amidala comforted. "It was just a   
dream."   
  


"You owe me."   
"It will be done."   
She melted into the shadows leaving a pile of cards and a row of   
shot glasses behind. Obi-Wan sighed in relief and gathered the cards   
together. As he rose to leave, he saw a lone card glistening under the   
table. It was the King of Hearts.   
  


Ten hours later, he was well on his way to Naboo. He paced the   
small hold of the transport, twirling his lightsaber through his fingers. He   
had no doubts that Queen Amidala would employ every means she had to   
keep Anakin safe. He just hoped that it would be enough.   
  


"I had two of my best guards outside the boy's room," Captain   
Panaka reported to Amidala. "They said the entire night was quiet. No   
one approached Skywalker's room, and there was no noise from inside."   
"Thank you, Captain." Amidala, once more in her elaborate   
headgear and facepaint, nodded regally. "I am quite confident in your   
security force. I am less confident in Anakin Skywalker's ability to stay in   
one place. Please make your guards aware of how...slippery he can be."   
"I'll make sure they know, your Majesty," Panaka said, trying to   
hide a smile.   
Just then the door to the throne room cracked open, and Anakin   
Skywalker's face peered in.   
"Sorry," he said, catching sight of the Queen and Panaka. "I was   
looking for Padme."   
"Padme will be along to look for you, shortly," Amidala told him,   
winking, when Panaka turned to look at him. "Where are your escorts?"   
"My...oh." Anakin had the grace to flush. "They were um, well   
they were busy, and I kind of forgot to tell them--"   
"There he is!"   
Amidala and Panaka glanced at each other as a the two guards   
assigned to Anakin slid into the throne room and, upon spotting the Queen,   
dropped to one knee.   
"Come on, you," the one on the right hissed at Anakin. "You can   
visit with the Queen later," he offered, not unkindly.   
"Ok. Sorry 'bout running off." Anakin glanced back at Amidala   
and did a cheap imitation of a bow. "Thank you, your Highness." His   
chubby face broke out in a big grin as he ran from the room.   
Amidala turned to Panaka and raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.   
Panaka sighed. "All right," he sighed. "Younger, faster, smarter.   
Got it."   
  


Ronyne slid into the pilot's seat of her transport. She sat for a   
minute, then picked up the bundled cloak Obi-Wan had returned to her,   
hugging it to her chest.   
Jedi, on her planet. And she was helping him. What was she   
thinking? She leaned her head against the back of the seat, remembering.   
How many years ago had she last dealt with Jedi? Ten? Twelve? Less   
than that? She reached under her cowl, feeling the rippling scar cutting   
across her skin. His fingers had traced the same path. The nerve endings   
were dead, so she couldn't feel much, but...   
She lifted the cloak to her face, expecting the sweet, smoky smell   
she was used to. The fabric crumpled softly in her hand, spilling over her   
lap. Abruptly, she wrinkled her nose and held the cloak away from her. It   
smelled all fresh...and clean...like...soap?   
"Shit," she growled, tossing it in the back of the transport.   
  


"So, have you decided what you want to do about going back with   
Obi-Wan?" Padme asked.   
Anakin scuffed along the garden path beside her, watching the   
ground with great interest. He mumbled something unintelligible.   
"I'm sorry. I think I missed that."   
"I think he's going to be mad."   
"I think he's going to be happy to see you safe."   
"And then he's going to yell."   
"He might. You must have given him an awful scare."   
"I can take care of myself."   
"Of course you can. But sometimes people who love you worry,   
anyway."   
"I know. My mom always did." Anakin kicked a small rock out of   
the path.   
"Are you missing your mother a lot, right now?"   
"I'm missing her cooking." He looked up to make sure Padme had   
caught his joke. Then, his face turned serious. "Yes, and no. I always   
miss her. But I'm glad she doesn't know there are people after me. She'd   
get upset."   
"I can't say that I'd blame her. But you didn't say what you were   
going to do about finishing your training."   
"I'm going back," Anakin said, softly. "If Obi-Wan will still let me.   
I have to become a Jedi so I can go back and free my mom and Kitster and   
Wald and all the other slaves."   
"Will you be ok with Obi-Wan?"   
"Yeah." Anakin gave her a half-grin. "He's ok."   
  


Obi-Wan Kenobi was climbing the walls. In fact, he was, practicing   
a Jedi exercise of using the Force for balance as he walked around the   
cargo hold's slick, metal walls. The hyperdrive had shorted out, and his   
pilot was trying to fix it. He just hoped Ronyne could stop the bounty.   
And that Amidala's guards could keep Anakin safe. And that Anakin   
wouldn't do anything stupid. He blew out the breath he'd barely realized he   
was holding and jumped to the ceiling. He had a lot to worry about.   
  


"I have to go get made up for dinner," Padme said, tugging on her   
loose ponytail.   
"Ok...I should probably wash up. Obi-Wan would tell me that I'm   
filthy."   
"You are." Padme grinned at him and ruffled his hair. "I'm glad   
you're going to be a Jedi, though. Qui-Gon would be very proud of you   
for sticking it out. Gotta go." She took off down the hall, leaving him in   
front of his door.   
  


Obi-Wan was bouncing at the ramp, as the pilot settled the   
transport on a high-priority pad.   
"Ok, kid," the pilot called back to him. "You're loose."   
Obi-Wan skipped down the ramp and jogged a few steps across the   
landing pad before pulling up his hood and attempting to compose himself   
as a proper Jedi Knight.   
  


"Don't move."   
Amidala froze. The cold metal of something sharp was touching   
her neck, and she didn't like it. Her handmaidens had done her hair and   
were waiting to dress and make her up. She had spent only seconds to   
herself, and somehow, this person managed to take advantage of that brief   
time.   
"Take this."   
A blaster was shoved into her hand. Amidala looked at it,   
curiously. "What am I to do with this?" she asked.   
Without an answer, a shadow pushed past her, and through the   
secret passage in the mirror that Amidala had thought only she, Panaka,   
and the handmaidens knew. Amidala was glad she was still in her soft   
boots and loose pants. She hefted the blaster experimentally, comfortable   
with the feel of the weapon. She didn't know who she was with or where   
she was going, but she was glad she was armed.   
  


"Hi." Anakin studied his two escorts. One was short, dark-haired,   
and wiry. The other was taller, blond, and thin. "Are you guys new?"   
"Yeah," the blond one said. "The old guys couldn't keep up with   
you. We're going to take you to dinner."   
"Cool," Anakin said, hoping they couldn't hear his stomach   
growling. "I'm starved."   
  


Surely they were expecting him. Obi-Wan walked into the Naboo   
palace, wondering why no one had been sent to greet him. Entrance was   
no problem, considering his history with Naboo, but everyone seemed   
surprised to see him here. Had they not received his transmission? There   
was something wrong, he was suddenly sure of it. The air seemed heavy   
with something...something foul. Involuntarily, his mind reverberated with   
the hiss of the Sith's lightsaber, and Qui-Gon's pained face flashed in his   
mind. NO, he told himself, sternly. Now was not the time. Naboo may be   
a trove of nightmares, but that's all they were, he reminded himself.   
Nightmares. I'm talking to myself, he realized. I really must be losing my   
mind.   
  


"Guys, this isn't the way to the dining room."   
"You haven't seen the secret passage yet?" the dark-haired one   
asked. "Queen Amidala thought you'd like to see the hiding places around   
here."   
"No..." Anakin studied the men. Padme hadn't said anything about   
secret passages. Of course, maybe they were so rarely used, she just   
thought of it. "Are you guys sure you're guards?"   
"Of course we're sure...why wouldn't we be?"   
Anakin reached for the lightsaber that had not been on his belt since   
he first boarded Trank's ship, and found a blaster shoved under his chin.   
"Oh. Maybe 'cause we're not."   
  


"We didn't know you were coming," Sache explained, leading Obi-   
Wan toward the dining room.   
"You mean you never got my transmission?"   
"Transmission? No. I wonder how that happened?"   
As Obi-Wan was about to speak, another handmaiden, the blond   
one, ran up to Sache and grabbed her arm.   
"Sache..." she pulled her to the side, but Obi-Wan's sharp hearing   
picked up her words easily. "Have you seen Amidala? We fixed her hair,   
and now we can't find her."   
"Can't find her?" Sache hissed. "What do you mean, Eirtae?   
Where could she have gone?"   
"I don't know. We're dressing up Sabe right now, and Panaka   
knows...he's checking the tunnels."   
"Where's Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked, interrupting their conversation.   
"Anakin?" Sache said, blankly. "He should be on his way to dinner.   
We have guards escorting him..."   
"Guards that might now be looking for the Queen?"   
Eirtae gasped. She muttered a most un-handmaiden-like word and   
hauled a blaster out of her robes, holding it pointed at the ceiling. "C'mon,   
Sach," she muttered. "Let's go."   
Obi-Wan drew his lightsaber and followed the swiftly moving   
handmaidens down the cavernous hall.   
"In here." Eirtae led them into a room with a guard and a great   
many monitors, showing different parts of the palace. Her sharp eyes   
scanned the rows of screens, not finding what she sought.   
"Pern," she said, to the guard. "Did you see where her Highness   
disappeared?"   
"No, ma'am," the young guardsman said, shaking his head. "I saw   
her go into the dressing room with all y'all, and that was the last I've seen   
of her."   
"There are no cameras in the dressing quarters," Sache explained,   
quietly to Obi-Wan as Eirtae squinted at the cameras in exasperation. "But   
those are the only places, besides a few high-priority suites. Most of the   
private rooms are recorded, but not displayed.   
"She went into the dressing room with us," Eirtae mused, "left us   
for her private bath...and never came back. She should still be in that   
area...or else she's on tape. If she was in the halls, she'd be caught on one   
of these cameras...she couldn't get to the non-displayed rooms without the   
halls...damn."   
"What about the secret passage behind the mirror?" Sache asked.   
"We haven't used it in ages, but she might have gone in there for some   
reason."   
"Sache, you're a genius! Where does that come out?"   
"The ballroom, I think. Pern..."   
"Right on it, ma'am."   
"The ballroom is closed when not in use, so the film is not on   
display," Sache whispered.   
One of the screens winked out and reappeared. Immediately, Obi-   
wan saw his Padawan in danger.   
"Get me there," he ordered.   
"Let's go," Eirtae commanded, lifting her blaster again.   
  


The shadowy figure pushed Amidala down the tunnel, until they   
found the wall. A booted foot slammed against the door, swinging it open,   
and pushing Amidala out.   
The Queen's sharp eyes quickly took note of the scene, and she   
brought her blaster to bear on the guards.   
"Anakin, are you all right?" she asked.   
"Yeah, uh, yes, your Highness," he replied, glancing her way.   
"Release the boy," she commanded, training her blaster on the   
guard who was not holding Anakin hostage.   
"Let us go, or the boy has a new airway," the other man snarled,   
tugging Anakin in front of him. "Put the blaster down, or--" The man   
cried out in pain as he crumpled to the floor, the bolt of a carefully aimed   
blaster driven through his back. Anakin started to break away, toward   
Obi-Wan, but the partner was fast, drawing his own blaster on the boy, and   
backing away from Amidala and the pair of handmaidens standing with   
Obi-Wan. Eirtae's blaster was smoking, lightly, and she had it trained   
between the man's eyes. The false guard knew he was only meters from   
the kitchen, and pushed the blaster harder into Anakin's neck. Obi-Wan   
wanted to use the Force to hurl it far, far away, but was did not want to   
risk the man's trigger finger being as itchy as he suspected. He could tell   
the handmaidens and Amidala also wanted to fire, but would not, until   
Anakin was clear.   
"You don't want to do this," he suggested, softly, waving his hand   
in front of the man's vision.   
"I want out of here," he said, his trigger hand shaking.   
Jedi mind tricks work only on the weak-minded, and at the   
moment, the man's mind was strong in fear and anger. Obi-Wan tried to   
use the Force to soothe him, to a negative effect.   
"None of that Jedi stuff, hear?" The man's eyes darted around. "If   
I even think something like that's going on, the boy's dead, got it?"   
"All right." Obi-Wan held up his hands. "No Jedi skills."   
"Good..." The man was trying to keep them all in his sights. "Now   
I want--"   
He never finished. He fell backward, dropping his blaster. Anakin   
ran for Obi-Wan, driving himself into the young Jedi's leg. Sache went to   
Amidala as Panaka and a contingent of guards came in through the kitchen.   
"About time," Eirtae informed them. She had been circling the   
fallen man with her blaster wielded, but now she let it drop to her side.   
"He's gone." Obi-Wan looked over at the false guard. An elegantly   
twisted, silver knife protruded from his neck.   
  


The moment Obi-Wan had seen the knife, his first instinct was to   
find Ronyne, but Anakin's presence held him back. Although the boy had   
released his leg the moment he realized his captor was on the ground for   
good, he stayed sheltered in Obi-Wan's shadow.   
"There is nothing to fear, young Padawan," Obi-Wan said, firmly,   
his tone, if not his words, chastising Anakin, who should be wary as anyone   
of the dangers of fear.   
"Yes, Master," Anakin replied, his voice hushed. He stepped up to   
stand next to Obi-Wan.   
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. Master? That was something he   
rarely heard.   
"Master?" Anakin asked, hesitantly, as they stood, watching   
Panaka's men work and the handmaidens tend to their queen. Neither   
looked at the other.   
"Yes, my Padawan?"   
Comforted by these words, Anakin pressed forward. "I apologize   
for my haste and impet...for being impetuous. And I'm sorry you had to   
come all the way to Naboo to get me," he added. "But if it's ok with you,   
I'd...I'd like to go home with you and finish learning to be a Jedi."   
The boy looked so pitiful and contrite, Obi-Wan had to hide a   
smile. Still, Anakin had learned an important lesson and had to recognize   
that. Besides, Obi-Wan wanted to milk this for all its worth.   
"Being a Jedi is not something you can walk away from," he   
reminded Anakin. "It entails a great deal of commitment."   
"Yes, Master," Anakin said. "I realize that, now."   
"Are you dedicated to this path? It is a hard one."   
"Yes, Master, I am."   
"If you are not sure..." Obi-Wan started. "Anakin, even if you don't   
want to become a Jedi, I'll understand. I still want you to come home with   
me."   
Anakin looked surprised, but recovered quickly. "No, Master. I   
want to become a Jedi. I am sure of it."   
"All right, then." Obi-Wan graced Anakin with a slight smile.   
"Either way, I'm glad you're coming home with me. We'll leave the day   
after tomorrow. Come on, now. We must pay our respects to the Queen."   
He held out a hand, which Anakin took happily, and walked across   
the room. Dropping the boy's hand, Obi-Wan bowed to Amidala, and   
Anakin imitated him.   
"You have a couple of very well-trained handmaidens, your   
Highness," Obi-Wan said, nodding toward Eirtae and Sache. "You are   
very lucky."   
"That was all me," Captain Panaka cut in as he walked by. "Them   
handmaidens are handcrafted by yours truly to be the finest stealth fighting   
force in the galaxy." He offered Obi-Wan a broad wink as he went to   
oversee the body removal.   
"I am very lucky," Queen Amidala admitted, with a small smile on   
her face. "I have very good people working for me. And very good   
friends."   
"I thank you for granting Anakin amnesty here."   
"Of course, Jedi Knight Kenobi. Anakin, and yourself, are always   
welcome in the palace as my guests. I only hope you will stay longer. I   
would hate for you to find every visit to my planet a nerve-wracking   
experience."   
"Your hospitality has always been much appreciated, your   
Highness," Obi-Wan told her. "We can stay a bit longer, but I'm afraid I   
have business on Malastare that must be attended to. My transport will   
leave the day after tomorrow." He glanced down at the solemn little boy   
beside him, and smiled, slightly. "Anakin will be accompanying me."   
"I'm so very glad to hear that." The Queen's face broke out into a   
wide smile. "But we're missing dinner. Sache, find me a robe. Padme's   
eating with the Jedi, tonight."   
  


"Anakin, I have a confession to make."   
Anakin looked up from the controls of the transport ship. The pilot   
was asleep, after being assured that Obi-Wan and Anakin were in complete   
control of the ship.   
"Put it on autopilot for a moment and come here."   
Doing as he was told, Anakin came to Obi-Wan's side.   
"Yes, Master?" he asked, remembering to hold his hands together in   
the appropriate Jedi fashion.   
"Earlier this week, I informed you that there was no excuse for   
gambling."   
"Yes, Master. It was contrary to the Jedi Code."   
"Yes, well...it seems I've broken the Code."   
"Master?" Anakin's eyes were wide and Obi-Wan could almost see   
the gears spinning in the boy's head.   
"Yes...in order to get Ronyne to lift the bounty on your head...well,   
I made a bet with her."   
"You made a bet, Master?" Anakin asked, eyes shining.   
"Yes, Anakin. At the time it seemed the only way. I'm not saying I   
was particularly correct, and I may receive quite a reprimand for it, but I   
wanted to be the one to tell you."   
"What was the bet? Master," Anakin added, hastily.   
"I told you. If I won, which I did, she was to find a way to lift the   
bounty on your head."   
"But what if you hadn't won?"   
"I'd have to give you up to her."   
Anakin gaped at him. "But...Obi-Wan, what if you'd lost?"   
"Well," Obi-Wan answered, recklessly, "I suppose I'd be doing a lot   
of paperwork for the Jedi Council. They're so fussy about lost   
Padawans...have to document everything. Probably would have used up a   
few dozen pens, and killed several trees, without a doubt--"   
"OBI-WAN!" Anakin shrieked. "What if you'd lost?"   
"I didn't intend to lose."   
  


Darth Sidious keyed his transmission screen and felt a flash of   
irritation when he saw a creature dressed in the same dark manner as   
himself.   
"Where's the boy?" he asked, impatience coloring his tone.   
The figure pushed back its hood to reveal a masked Ronyne. She   
shook her head.   
"What do you mean, no? Did you call off the bounty?"   
She nodded.   
"Why?" Sidious was livid. "I'll have you killed for this!"   
Ronyne rolled her eyes.   
"Mock me, will you? You're head will be mounted on my wall!"   
She flicked her hand as if clearing away the idle threat. "Wait," she   
rasped.   
"Wait? Have you gone completely mad this time?"   
Her hands spread wide, and she bowed, slightly.   
"Wait..." Sidious contemplated her, thoughtfully. "I should wait,   
and let the seeds grow in the boy...let his anger grow..."   
"Betrayal."   
"Yes...yes...betrayal would be so much...sweeter...as you were   
betrayed, Ronyne...you have walked the edge between the lightness and the   
dark for so long...years...I have never known anyone with the strength to   
stay so balanced...you must be so tired of trying so hard...you must be so   
tired...you can't play both sides forever, Ronyne...come to me, my   
dear...you're almost here...just a simple step...come to the Dark Side with   
me..."   
The last image he received before the transmission died, was that of   
the intergalactic signal to engage himself in a most unholy, not to mention   
acrobatic, act.   
  


Obi-Wan lay in his bed, feeling the light breeze tickle across his   
bare chest. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the usual scents of Anakin's   
tree, the oil/fuel combinatioin that seemed to linger about the house, and   
hgukth-lioth, which he had allowed Anakin to buy as a special treat, that   
night in town. They'd shared it, making enough of a mess to warrant a   
quick dip in the spring behind their little place. He smelled it on the second   
breath. The faint, sickly sweet scent of smoke he associated with the   
Cantina.   
He rose, silently, but quickly, taking his lightsaber as he crept   
toward Anakin's room. He pushed the door open, soundlessly.   
Ronyne sat on Anakin's bed, smoothing the sleeping Padawan's bad   
haircut.   
A thousand thoughts ran through Obi-Wan's head, most of them   
producing scenarios of deceit and betrayal.   
But Ronyne made no offense. Instead, she brushed her gloved   
fingertips across Anakin's cheek, touched her forehead to his, and rose to   
face his master. She bowed, slightly, letting the sleeves of her robe fall   
over her hands. After a moment, Obi-Wan returned her gesture. When he   
straightened, she was gone.   
  


The End   


_Author's note: Ronyne's name was derived from the word Ronin, an ancient Japanese_   
_term for a warrior without a master. The fairy tale from which she took her name is_   
_entirely of my own creation. I am considering expanding this story into a trilogy to_   
_explore more of Ronyne's past. If anyone is interested in sequels, please email me and let_   
_me know what you liked and did not like._   
  


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